A much more quiet area of Medical, this elongated room is also lined with beds. Each is similarly outfitted with privacy curtains as necessary and even the paint on the walls has been lightened in an attempt to help lift spirits. Chairs are readily available all over the place so that visitors can pull one up to talk to the patients during their recovery. Near the entrance, visiting hours are posted with a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign.

Post-Holocaust Day: #353

Andrea is resting, as per usual, on her cot in the recovery ward. One leg has snaked out from under the sheets and hospital gown, the firecracker pilot doing what she can to rebel given that quick head movements make her queasy. She is trying to read a book but can't focus on it, and tosses it aside after awhile.

"Afternoon," McManus greets in a low rumble as he enters, moving to the end of the cot to scan over the pertinent information there. He unhooks the clipboard, flicking over to the second page to read. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Oh, hey there, PO." With a sigh, her leg is pulled back under the sheets. "Headaches, mainly. The chest and arm are feeling much better."

McManus hooks the clipboard back to the end of the cot, nodding lightly. "How's your vision?" he asks, withdrawing a pen light from his top pocket and leaning over to shine it into her eyes. "We'll keep an eye on the headaches, but I think it's something you just have to expect, hm? The doctor's got you down for physio on Wednesday so we'll see how that goes and work from there."

Her whole face clenches painfully as the light shines in them. "Augh… that hurts…" her hands go to her temples but she tries to follow it. "Dammit, not my eyes…"

McManus arches an eyebrow, tucking the light away and making a few scribbled notes. "You have twelve nerves in your brain," he explains, briefly tapping his skull. "If the damage you've taken has injured some of those, you can tell by eye and pupil reactions. We also want to make sure you don't have any kind of infection between your brain and your skull, which could cause you problems. How long's the light been painful for?"

"Since I woke up…" Andrea mutters under her breath. She then focuses. "Ok, try it again. I'm ready for it this time."

McManus smiles wryly. "Ready," he echoes, retrieving the light again and flicking it on. "I'm going to want you to follow the light with your eyes, now. Make sure that's all working properly, as it should."

Andrea follows the light like she's tracking a Raider in combat. Her hand even clenches an imaginary trigger. Back and forth, back and forth. "Was that a little stab at me, earlier? Only twelve nerves in my brain?"

"No, no," McManus demurs, shaking his head and holding up one massive paw. "Everyone's got twelve, and with a cranial injury, they're the first thing to check. Oh oh oh, to touch and feel, vi… ahem. Quite. There's a slightly risque rhyme one learns to remember them all in order," he explains himself apologetically. "Screw up your face for me? And… eyebrows up? And then poke your tongue out for me… lovely."

"Well, now you gotta tell me the rhyme…" Andrea says with a smile, "Now you've made me waggle my eyebrows at you and pant like a dog."

McManus clears his throat, straightening and squaring his shoulders. "It very rarely comes up when you're scrummaging down in the front row, sir. Anyway! We'll get you set up for physio, either with me or one of the other chaps, on Wednesday. You might find us less cute then, I fear."

"Unless I'm the kind of girl who likes it rough…" She pushes herself up a bit more, still smiling, until a wave of dizzyness hits. "Ah, frak…" she falls back onto her pillow with a groan. "Gah, maybe won't be so much fun afterall…"

"Dizzy?" McManus queries, looking her over thoughtfully. "We might be able to give you something for that. Let me check to see what sort of supplies we've got, and check with the dispensing staff." And then that first comment registers and his face turns a glowing pink once more. "Ah. Well. I'd recommend, sir, that you refrain from… social activity until we've got your neck stabilised. We wouldn't want… uh… overenthusiastic exercise to undo the good we've done."

"So what you would recommend…" the leg snakes back out from under the sheet, and Andrea seems to… well, writhe a little, "…is that I should stick to activities where my head and neck are properly supported? Say… with a pillow under them? Would that work?"

"I would… uh… recommend limiting any such activities, sir," McManus insists, turning his attention studiously to the paperwork as even his ear tips turn red. "Until the doctor gives approval, certainly. Even with a brace, the neck is a delicate area which we don't want to injure any further."

The leg hooks his. "So, what kind of recreation would you recommend, then? A girls got needs, you know."

"Dammit, PO…" Andrea says, in a voice a few tones lower than usual. "My chest is covered in bandages. My head has been shaved or shorn close, but I KNOW I still have great legs, and you're acting like your aunt with the mustache is fixing to kiss you." Her Aerilon accent is coming on thick. "You're an athlete. I'm a Viper Jock. Whats the worry? It's a damn nice leg, if you would relax enough to notice it."

"You have excellent legs, sir," McManus agrees earnestly. "I have nothing but praise for your fitness regime. However, I really must insist…" He clears his throat again. "Rest, sir. Would you like me to fetch you some books, perhaps?"

"Good. At least we can agree on that." She pats a book on the table. "I have trouble following a light, PO. Focusing on writing is… tricky. Care to read to me?"

"I'll stop back in when I'm off duty, sir," McManus promises, relief evident. "I still have physio to do today for a couple of patients before you." He gives the book's cover a glance.

Andrea smiles, and tucks the leg back under. "Gods…" she mutters to herself, and holds her head again. "What… in the name of hades…"

McManus immediately looks alert, arching an eyebrow. "Pain, sir? Anything unusual, and you need to let us know right away. Any sharp, sudden pains, or if it becomes markedly worse."

"I was about ready to jump you…" she mutters. "Hormones going crazy… not that you're not attractive, or anything… but… Gods, papa would hided me up one side and down the other if he heard me going on like that…"

"Head trauma can sometimes result in temporary personality changes, sir," McManus assures her. "It should settle down with time. Just to be sure, though, I want to take some blood, if that's all right, sir? Check your U's and E's, and rule out anything more sinister."

"Check my… what? Sweet frakking Courtesan Goddesses…"

"Urea and electrolytes, sir," McManus explains, moving off to gather a syringe and needle. "We'll see if the levels of anything in your blood are unusual. We can check for abnormal hormone balance while we're at it, check for pregnancy and so forth. The usual. Roll your sleeve up for me, sir?"

"Pregnancy? Pregnancy?" Andrea rolls her sleeve up, but doesn't seem to be very relaxed. "You think I might be pregnant?"

"It's one of the standard checks, sir," McManus explains, rubbing a swab of alcohol to her arm. "I'm sure you'd know more than I if it's a possibility, but we'll be checking for infections, unusual concentrations of ions or sugars, and a variety of different tests."

Andrea calms down, but it isn't easy. Her hand even twitches towards the self-medication button, but pulls away. "Ok, then. Do it." She stares straight up at the ceiling. Even after getting all that shrapnel pulled out of her, the needle is still giving Hosedown worries.

McManus rests a hand on her shoulder, before injecting the needle and beginning to draw blood. "You're all good, sir. Won't be a moment."

A hand touches his hand, and she smiles up at him. Her eyelashes even bat a little, before she frowns and looks down. "Careful, PO…"

McManus looks almost embarrassed again, withdrawing the needle and pressing a tissue to her arm. "Really, sir, I don't think… um… Quite. I'm very flattered, however, and thank you."

"Terrified, is more like," Andrea says, keeping her eyes closed. She holds the tissue to her arm.

"I'm a front row, sir," McManus tells her with a shy smile. "We don't get terrified. Just hold that there, and I'll get this off to the chaps for testing for you. Try and get some sleep, sir, and I'll come back when I'm off duty to read for you."

"I'll try, PO. You take care. Watch out for hormonal pilots."

"I'll set traps for them, sir," McManus assures her solemnly, patting her shoulder once more before moving off.